Thursday, November 25, 2004

Bittersweet Thoughts, Like Fine Wine

I smelled snow.

It was a truly beautiful night out tonight, though I didn't get to spend near as much time as I'd have liked actually out in it. But when one is extorted into making an appearance at one's step-family's Thanksgiving dinner, one has to stick around indoors, lest one appear antisocial. My mother is very big on appearances.

I smelled snow in the air. The faint draught flowing in from the West, carrying a subtle scent of falling purity from the mountains. It's a soothing smell I can't quite describe. Icy, but not dry. Cold, but not frigid. If you can smell snow, you're right there with me, but if you can't, I'm afraid you're stuck in the dark. But my nose is sensitive anyway.

Yellow Tail, an Austrailian vineyard, makes good wine, by the way.

So as the motions and rituals of departure were observed by the family. and ignored by me, I took a step outside. The moon was near full, bright. Beautiful. Casting a cool, pale light across the world, washing it in silver-blue. And not for the first time did I think of you today. With those thoughts came a subtle flow of bittersweet rememberance. I sipped of the flow, tasting it, carefully, slowly. A bouquet of fondness with a hint of sadness. Not overbearing, very subtle. Enhancing and mixing with the feeling of family and affection (and a very full stomach. God bless American gluttony on this day) to make a very potent poignancy. I think you'd like my family. not Randy's family, but my dad's side of the family. They're all pretty open about people we bring to family functions like Thanksgiving. My dad, aunts and uncles and grandparents all, trust our, being my siblings and cousins, judgements in that if we think the people we bring are worthy of inclusion, they're willing to see what we see in a person. They're pretty sarcastic, but in a way only family can be. Lovingly jabbing at one another, smiles all the while. Though really it was tonight I would have liked to have had you there with me, briefly though the moment lasted. A moment, a perfect, bittersweet moment. There in the moonlight and chill air, the hint of snow on the wind. I would have liked to have been able to share that moment with you. God willing, perhaps someday, a similar moment.

Another sip, smoothly down it goes, cool to the taste, warm in the heart. I remember other moments. Moments shared, moments lost. Others who have been held fond in my heart, and I send off a quick prayer, a sincere whim, really. Wishing, hoping, praying that they're days had been for them what mine had been for me. And I thanked God that they were, or perhaps once were, in my life. I thanked Him for many things. Living here in this nation where there is such plenty that I may eat until my IQ has dropped several points from sheer mass of intake; having the family I have, loving, supporting; my friends, close, near, and dear advisors and advisees, good hearts all; my change of fortune, if fortune it truly could be called, for it has truly changed; and of course, you, though I might not be wise in saying these things so openly. But I think they need to be said. That and all this bittersweet ponderance and introspection has caused a waxing poetical that needs an outlet. So here it is in all it's wine-induced glory.

So yeah. I thought of you. I hope your family has been good for you, as that's really what this season, this day is all about. Sure, there's a lot of good food to eat. Football (though what the heck was going on in the Bears/Cowboys game? Major suck! Learn to play! You're getting paid way too much for it as it is, yeesh) if you're into that sort of thing. History, rememberance, thanks, and all the rest. But it's about family, blooded and extended, kith, kin, and friends. And family, to me, thank God for this, means love.

"And these three remain: Faith, Hope, and Love. The greatest of these is Love."

I love you all. And I thank God that I am able to be here with you all, and that you all are here with me. God bless you all.

Amen.




I smelled snow.

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